


When We've Been There Ten Thousand Years

by Nemonus



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 10:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemonus/pseuds/Nemonus
Summary: “I have another job for you, if you want it," Ikora said. "Before that strange Solar Light fades, if it does. I want you to find Eris Morn and show her what happened."





	When We've Been There Ten Thousand Years

Seconds after the Vanguard beheld the living Traveler from the ramparts of the new Tower, Kass collapsed.

Ah yes, the Traveler was living so fully it brightened the skies and clouded them again with interference. Kass had felt the force field of it, a liquid zap, ruffle her hair right through her helmet when Ghaul rose into the Traveler’s orbit. She couldn’t remember much after that, although some time must have passed: the knitted blankets and the Light in the place where she drowsed didn’t feel anything like the farm. The wild magic of the Shard was a cool blue weight on the horizon, patiently humming.

Kass tangled her fingers in the blankets, loosening the stitches. Blinked again, softening the harsh gray of the world into the softer blues and corals of a room in the Tower. She couldn’t tell which dormitory or block she lay in, but the colors were right. Pair that up with the Light, and the place surrounded her like Zavala’s blankets. He had knitted a pattern of vague Ghosts in gray against the blue thread, blocky geometric shapes with circular cores. She had seen this pattern before, carried by Guardians who learned it together. After long last, after that mission to the burning side of a metal fortress walking distance from the Sun, she was looking at something familiar. She blinked dry eyes.

When she stood up, dizziness took her. Her Ghost hovered, suddenly splayed out in alarm. Kass flattened one hand on the bedside table, as much out of curiosity as out of the need to stabilize. A red cup shot through with salmon pink looked like it had been fired in an oven instead of spun out of an assembly line. A sconce might once have held a candle, now reduced to white wax drippings in translucent glacial sculpture. A lattice over the window let in morning light.

“Oh good, we’re awake,” said her Ghost.

“Mostly.” She let her clutching grip on the table subside to a brush, tried to sit up again. Looking for an exit strategy on the other side of the room lead her to the realization that the whole place was not as aesthetically put-together as the bedside table. The wall by the door was bare and gray, the floor clouded with dust from its construction. Rock dust glittered in the beams of sunlight through the slats. The room smelled like dust and heat, as if the candle had just recently gone out. “Something feels wrong.”

“We won.” Her  Ghost’s voice maintained the chipper frankness he had worn before they faced Ghaul. It might have been more impressive if it hadn’t felt so thin.

“Where are the others?”

“I don’t remember. They made it out; we all met the Vanguard together.”

Kass tried to stand again. Her feet found the floor. The pile of blankets was no longer so heavy, so it was easier for her to stand and stretch.

“Do you remember it?” she asked softly.

“I remember Ghaul taking the Light, and the Traveler killing him. And the … incident with the Sun.” The Ghost shivered, flanges flicking in and out.

“The Traveler.” Kass closed her eyes. The presence of the Traveler’s Light was like magnetic north to a compass, spinning her awareness toward its place above the City. Light streamed from it, shot through with the presences of other Guardians who created shallow ripples in the sea of Light. “It’s _alive_.” And what did that mean for the temples and cults, the artists and Guardians calling the name of the machine-divinity to bless their works? If the Traveler could speak to anyone, to whom would it _choose_ to speak? She wanted to sink to her knees and fly to the perimeter at the same time. She could not thank the Traveler enough for taking Ghaul, could neither understand fully its reasons for doing so. Was he trapped inside there, communing in perfect stasis with the machine?

“I want to go see it,” she said.

At almost the same time, her Ghost sighed, “Let’s not do _that_ again,” and she cupped it between her hands and brought it to the level of her eyes.

“We’re okay,” Kass said. “The Sun will not burn us, the army will not invade our city. We made it.”

They sat, meditating in the knowledge of their survival, for a while.

Kass still felt weak, the dizziness not quite dispelled, so she kept stretching and breathing slowly until a mediative calm settled around her. She was folding one arm over the other when Ikora knocked on the door.

The Warlock Vanguard’s presence was rich and familiar, resonating in time with the Traveler’s Light like music in harmony. Instead of knocking on the door she swept out with the Light. Knowing that Ikora’s senses were more attuned than her own, Kass replied with the slightest shift in the Light. Her own power felt watery and drained, heavy as the Ghost that now drifted to rest on the bedside table. Kass would not show her exhaustion as the Vanguard opened the door, not yet. Her Ghost would.

“Did you find the blankets comfortable?” Ikora began.

Kass took that as an invitation to sink back down into the blankets. “Very much. I thought I recognized the pattern. Did Zavala make this?”

“He did. We all have our ways to make the place feel like home,” Ikora smiled. Her own Ghost floated peacefully over her shoulder.

“I don’t …” _I don’t remember what this Tower looks like._ A Warlock, admit ignorance? Absolutely not. The prospect was dangerous, even here.

Even after Ikora had told Kass that it was alright to be afraid.

“It does feel like it could be home,” Kass smiled gingerly. Onward to greater things, with more cute ceramic cups —? “We’ll have to decorate the far wall eventually.”

“Ah. It was decorated already, not long ago.” Ikora smiled tightly.

Kass tipped her head.

“That was you.” Ikora gestured at the wall. “When we brought you in, you were burning with the Light. We let you sit, over there, until it sputtered out.”

Kass breathed in and felt for the Light again, expecting it to shy away or to bubble with repulsive mutation. If something was wrong with her, she would need to ask the new presence of the Traveler what it had done. “What happened?”

“Not here.” Ikora held up a hand. “Come with me to my temporary library. We’ll figure out what happened to your Light there. Be reassured: you aren’t sick, aren’t cursed by anything lingering.”

“Thank the Traveler.” Kass bowed her head in acknowledgement. When she looked up Ikora was just switching from watching her Ghost to watching Kass again, her eyes wide and caring. Ikora’s straightforward ferocity motivated Kass to be a more active Warlock, and her comments on Kass’ written works were likewise straightforward and unornamented. Perhaps part of why she admired the Vanguard so much was because Ikora seemed never entirely satisfied with her. Kass always needed to push herself in order to become the person Ikora’s rare and observant praise suggested she could be.

“I feel dizzy. And I don’t remember … any of what I might have done with the Light after coming back to the Tower.”

“I’ll explain once we’ve demonstrated it.” Ikora paused. “I also wanted to thank you, while we were here. Without you all the efforts of my fireteam and Hawthorne’s fighters would have been worth … less than they were. I’ve talked to the other members of your fireteam already. You’re strong and gracious Guardians. I don’t know what we would do without you.”

“Auburn and Arem fought as hard as I did,” Kass replied softly. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Maybe tell Zavala you appreciated his blanket,” Ikora said as she turned to go.

Kass followed. “Wait, is this his room?”

“No.” Ikora lead the way down a gray corridor. The hall beyond it was more finished; dark gray paving stones hung about with ivy reminded her of the overgrown streets in Trostland. “It could be yours, if you want it, but we’re still working on moving people out of dormitories and into separate rooms. Likewise, if they want them.”

Guardians along the side of the wide corridor worked to clear rubble, sweep floors, and carry boxes of supplies. Kass slipped into the narrow gap between the wall and a Titan carrying a box one-handed, still clad in the tattered remains of her parade armor; whether she had been wearing it since the attack started or whether she had chosen to dirty it with building-dust instead of Cabal blood this morning was indeterminable. Past the narrow hall and through a door they came to a different view of the Traveler than the balcony where Ikora had stood before. Hawthorne was checking items off a list under a trellis, Louis preening in the rafters of a partially-constructed watchtower beside her. Guardians, frames, and citizens pulled boxes across the floor and hammered nails. Cold wind brought up the metallic smell of the city and the Traveler’s perimeter. Someone had set up a card game at a long bar.

Ikora moved through the bustle easily, Kass and the Ghosts following her. Books tottered in piles in the temporary library, which was also sheltered from the elements with an awning and looked out over the City. The Vanguard flipped through a volume as if stalling for time.

“We’re going to experiment out here?” Kass’ Ghost said. “Seems like there’s an awful lot that could go wrong.”

Ikora set the book down and met his eye. Some Guardians found it difficult to communicate attentiveness to their Ghosts, but Kass never had. She recognized Ikora’s comfort with Ghosts as well. “I know this must be strange to you, but we saw how your Light behaves many times while you were asleep. Hawthorne has already visited that room, as have the Vanguard. I believe Cayde left a cup on your table.”

“It was empty!” The Ghost protested.

“I believe he thought it would be motivating for you to see what you did not have. Either that or he forgot. Warlock,” Ikora said to Kass, seamlessly transitioning from the light, fond tone she took with Cayde to a more authoritative one. “Give me a little Light.”

“Here? And torch your books?” Kass was used to being dangerous. Her danger sent Ghaul stumbling away before the Light itself took him. What she was not used to was being dangerous with consequences, the kind of dangerous that could singe Hawthorne or one of the civilians newly and tentatively invited into the fortress once reserved only for Guardians. She could almost hear her Ghost muttering 'diplomatic incident' now.

“Whatever type you’re most comfortable with.” Ikora was insistent.

“You know which type I’m most comfortable with,” Kass said.

Had she just _snarked_ at her Vanguard? Her face flushed with embarrassment. Ikora did not give the words any further consideration. Instead, she watched while Kass raised one hand. Her arm was still clad in her red gauntlets, the same she had worn to the Almighty. When she opened and closed her hand she felt the familiar wash of Arc energy and contained the lightning to a single sphere, just a demonstration hanging above her palm and crackling.

What emerged instead was a miniature star, familiar from the few months when she had run Sunsinger but not at all what she had expected to produce. Ikora watched it calmly, more concerned about Kass’ reaction than the flame. Kass closed her hand over it and the fire dissipated. It should have been easier to call the storm; she had gravitated to lightning for years. She tried again, picturing the cold fire of the lightning in her hand, and created another tiny sun.

Ikora had raised her bare hand to stop her from doing this before, Kass thought. If Kass had kept pulling the Light to her in the bedroom, what exactly would the Warlock Vanguard have done?

Ikora nodded. “Something has changed in your Light since you got back from the Almighty.” She walked further toward the balcony. Kass followed, idly examining the titles of the books she passed. Several copies of Ikora’s studies were stored there. Kass found herself looking for her own.

Birds flew by below, black and gray wings against the steel blue of the distant city.

“Does your Light feel different?” Ikora asked.

“No.”

“It does to me. When you returned I thought you had chosen Solar to combat the Cabal, but then you collapsed. And the Light just kept on burning. You were throwing out Solar abilities at random for a day, Kass.”

Her heart sank. Had Ikora ever said her name like that before, almost pitying? “Maybe something happened at the Almighty. We didn’t notice anything strange in the Light.” She glanced at her Ghost for confirmation, got a shift back and forth like the shake of a head.

“If you had brought energy like that to the Crucible you would have been unstoppable.” Ikora’s tone lightened.

“Could this happen to anyone if they flew that close to the Sun?”

“Guardians have done it before and came back the same. Don’t underestimate thrill-seekers. But this does give us a unique chance to figure out what happened. Right now, if anyone profiled you in the Light they would see the Sun as your preferred class.”

Kass looked down at her hands while she tried again to summon Arc Light. This time it worked, a ball of lightning emerging inside a translucent sphere of energy between both of her hands. It took effort, though, a heavy weight that curled her lip and tensed her shoulders. She sighed in relief and dissolved the energy again. Would it sit inside her and seethe? Her power felt slightly removed from her, a hiccup in the magic. Nothing was jumping unexpectedly from her to Ikora, though, nothing catching on fire on the other side of the balcony. “It still works. If I train back up, with the Traveler willing it should be fine.” She wanted to ask Ikora about who had produced the first papers on the new Traveler — surely someone had started an entire field of study while she was asleep — but it would have to wait.

“Use it to your advantage in Crucible. And let me know if anything strange happens. It seems like if we lose you we lose some of our chances against the next Ghaul.”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next one.” Kass wrapped her arms around herself, then drummed her fingers on her armor. _Was_ something wrong with her Light?

“I do have another job for you, if you want it.” Ikora moved to the railing and gripped it, looking away.

Kass quieted.

“Before that Solar Light fades, if it does. I want you to find Eris Morn and study what is left of her Light.”

Kass’ stomach ached. She hadn’t seen Eris since before the parade, before the start of the Red War. Ikora had reassured her that Eris was alive, but hints and interpretations were not the same as seeing her again, not the same as — was it right to call it friendship? The mutual reliance where Kass asked Eris to sit with her fireteam when no one else would, and where over and over Eris demonstrated that her strange power was like a lifeline for Kass between the bright Tower and the slavering dark. Eris had pulled Kass’ fireteam out of Hive tunnels and helped them find passage into the Dreadnaught. To find a path back to Eris now would be to walk halls so familiar they were almost a lifeline of their own after the Red War.

“Of course. But how?” _Her Light is gone._

“I’ll give you a homing beacon. Stay in the Tower at least long enough to use that new Light in training, with someone who trusts you. I’ll be there to make sure it does not become even stranger.”

“But her Light is gone. The Hive stole it.”

Ikora turned to her. “Yours is behaving in a way we’ve never seen before. Eris has expertise in the edge of the Light, in seeing it from the outside. She may be able to tell us something we don’t know. You will need to touch her, because she won’t be able to feel the difference as well as a Light-filled Guardian. I’ll tell her you’re on your way.”

Kass nodded. The prospect of helping Eris — this was what the Traveler had meant for her to do. Its strange Light resonated in time with the plan.

“Now,” Ikora said, “Go find someone to fight.”

* * *

Kass found an empty corridor near one of Shaxx’s City Crucible fields and a sparring partner, a laid-back Gunslinger with the patience to work out how best they could disrupt one another’s rhythms. Ikora stood above them with her arms folded and her Ghost perched against the curve of her neck. Its gentle humming grounded her. The feeling was welcome because her thoughts were so fanciful. _Admit it, Ikora._ She faced herself in her mind with a gentle authority she knew she had taken in part from Osiris — taken and smoothed out, added a fight song beat and a humbling awareness of the people around her.

Maybe the Sun spilling from Kass could jump-start Eris’ Light.

Ikora had already done some theoretical work, telling herself all along that she was treading in a realm of science fiction. Zero multiplied by any number was still zero. All that power could drive into the black hole of Eris’ dead Light and would have no more effect than it would have on Hawthorne. Eris could give Kass valuable information by seeing her in person, information no one else on the Tower could give. Sending them to the same place was practical.

It was also so very hopeful. She fantasized about telling Eris the truth if it worked, telling her that the experiment had been a gift, a long-awaited thanks.

_Be in this, Ikora. Why does it feel like the world is spiraling in around this idea? Chase it like you chase the right words, interrogating and sorting and hating them._

_Why do you want to save her? She wouldn’t want to know you think she needs saving. She isn’t ill, without the Light. You love her, though, if love is support and debt and secrets. You know that she said she wants to burn the colonies on the Moon, all those years of history and drive gone to black ash. She wants to build a greenhouse in the rubble and cultivate carnivorous plants, feeding them the flies that eat the dead on Earth._

_You hope she gets that, with or without her magic._

* * *

Ikora gave Kass a techeun device and didn’t explain what it was intended to do. The small black sphere riddled with spinning blades pointed in Eris’ direction all right, an impossibly precise tug toward the asteroid belt that Kass had to readjust her borrowed ship toward again and again. She trusted that it accounted for orbits and pressed on slowly, rubbing her Ghost’s flanges every once in a while like she would rub a cat’s ear.

What had Eris been doing out here? How was she holding up, with her world in the City ruined twice-over? Or were the Hidden her world now? Ikora had mentioned, before the Red War, that Eris worked with Osiris even when he hid himself away from everyone else, and with Asher even when he became too insufferable for Ikora. Maybe her nature, how often she traveled around and how she never quite lived fully in the moment, simply insulated her from irritation. She did not stay with their weighty self-attention for long, always returning to her own research. Someone who could zone out in the middle of one of Asher’s diatribes, even to memories of their own horrors, was powerful indeed.

In the asteroid belt the glow from the techeun compass faded away once, to Kass’ alarm. When it pulsed again her Ghost understood the signal — they needed to keep apace with the nearest asteroid, following in its direction. The hazy debris clouds that hid the Reef in purple fog thinned out further away from the station, space black and dull. Saturn sat as a yellow disk in the distance, the scar from the Dreadnaught invisible.

Eris would need to find her, because Kass wasn’t sure how she was going to navigate this empty wilderness herself.

Give it to a former Hunter to find the way in space.

The techeun compass brought Kass to one of its siblings. She magnified the image on the screen, surprised when a ship never appeared beside it. The little compass floated, bronze arms circling a blue core. It glinted with the metallic blue-purples Kass remembered from the Reef.

“Where is she?” Kass muttered to herself and to the Ghost.

“Ikora wouldn’t have sent this to us if she didn’t think it would work,” the Ghost said with certainty.

Three heartbeats worth of patience, three heartbeats of waiting. The second ship uncloaked, thin green lines outlining a blueprint of its facets before the green-black true color nestled into the black backdrop. Eris sent a Vanguard code over, precise and emotionless. Permission to transmat.

The ships floated beside one another. Kass dropped into a living room almost bare except for a knitted blanket not dissimilar to the one Kass had slept her fitful recovery under, patterned in abstract stripes instead of geometric Ghosts. Surprised to find herself alone, Kass moved hesitantly toward the pilot station.

“Eris?”

“There is an outpost just ahead.” Eris’ voice emerged not directly through Kass’ helmet but from the pilot console. “Three Cabal ships circle it. Destroy them.”

“You’re fighting Cabal?” Kass dropped into the seat, reached out to get the lay of the unfamiliar controls.

“We all are, now.” As usual, Eris’ tone was utterly serious, utterly unforgiving of waste in her words. She exerted herself so carefully that each word might have been a heavy burden.

 _Not what I expected._ Her Ghost flicked out of the corner of her eye, its twitchiness betraying her own surprise. Kass took a deep breath and guided the ship around. The Light of the Traveler was still evident out here, even if she couldn’t see it or use it directly. Think about the solar system as one whole web, connected with strings of Light; think of yourself as a bead of dew sliding along the strings.

Two Cabal ships, studded with ugly orange guns, lit their engines to angle around the tiny space station. Kass swiped through menus and found that Eris’ ship had cannons with more power and firing rate than Kass’ own ship; she set them to be largely self-guided and concentrated on lining up a shot that wouldn’t endanger the space station.

Between the Guardian and the Ghost’s coordination, the first two shots cracked one Cabal fighter apart. The projectile was something green and molten, Hive-technology spun into tame fire. Kass delayed the automation for the second shot, pumped the trigger just as the second ship was coming around a corner. Debris pattered the shield as she looked for the third. They might have sent troops into the station already — how many Cabal could fit on one of those ships? This was the part where one of her fireteam members might have told her to _stop thinking so hard_ , might have taken control and decided to go after the third ship right away.

Without anyone else present, Kass had to pretend. _What would Yarrow do?_ Kass felt her smile curl just the right side of her face, just the expression her Ghost would see most clearly.

She chased the third Cabal ship around the space station and out toward the belt. Another push and that ship was taken by green fire too, pieces fanning out in orange and jade in front of the blue-black asteroid field.

“Coming back around.”

Eris did not reply. Kass kicked the ship into an automated orbit around the station.

“Are you okay in there?” Kass’ Ghost asked, more nervous than its Guardian.

“Set us down inside,” Kass said.

With her feet on the ground she was more certain, even though the station flickered with emergency lights. As soon as she landed she recognized the station as a product of the Reef, curved lines decorating the hallways inside. Purple-blue flags shimmered in tatters under the red emergency lights. Kass moved one fold of a banner aside to find a console beneath, covered with dust but decorated with stickers: Dead Orbit, the logo of Awoken Sparrow Racer Triska Korlo, and a sigil Kass did not recognize.

She edged forward. The station appeared to be a small science outpost, with some windows open to space and some covered with complex lenses and racks. No Cabal on radar, no Eris either. They would meet one another blind.

“Eris?” Kass transmitted.

“There are no enemies here,” Eris said over the comm.

“Now she tells us,” the Ghost muttered.

_She was working on something._

Kass lowered her weapon when she turned the corner. The central room of the station was ringed with consoles and shelving piled with more of what Ikora had called the techeun compasses, each mechanism slightly different within the standard round shell. Two Cabal, dead in a corner, might have been the cargo of one of those swarming ships.

“Thank you.” Eris gathered another techeun compass up. “Many of these have been lost. Ikora understands the bitter joke of returning one to me.” She smiled. “Take them both back. Keep them safe.”

“You work hard for the Reef.” Kass took the compass. It was larger than the others, so dense that she struggled with it at first. Eris put a hand on the mechanism to steady it while Kass lifted it toward her Ghost for transmat.

As the compass dissolved, Eris bowed her head. Kass couldn’t quite tell whether her eyes had narrowed behind the gauze or not. “I go where I can in these dark times. Did Ikora ask you to help her Hidden?”

“Not exactly. Just you.”

If Eris was hiding anything that she might have said to one of the Hidden, she smoothly covered it up. This secrecy, these riddles, could be difficult to parse for Guardians who suspected Eris of hiding something. For Kass, her desire to learn meant that any time she could spend even at the outskirts of those secrets were valuable. Trust drove her, as trust in the Traveler did. It had not failed her yet. Maybe one day it would, the new and living Traveler showing proof of tyranny and Eris fading back into the tunnels of the Hive once Savathûn called. Kass counted on those fears being wrong.

She and Eris, perhaps both hiding something of their fears from their faces, watched the compass go.

“What are you working on out here?” Kass asked, reaching out for one of the other compasses. Eris did not stop her as she experimentally moved the interlocking pieces.

“They were left when the Queen’s forces scattered. Some cry out for information they will never receive, tasks they will never finish. Others … what did Ikora call them?”

“Compasses.”

“Yes! Some point the way to where techeuns might have gone. The hidden sisters wait and watch for their time, learning more about the Taken and helping to rebuild the Reef. But the sea is dark and they sail such small boats.” Eris’ gaze was distant.

“We feel like that back on the Tower too.” Kass hugged her arms to herself.

“Do they rebuild well? Do Guardians remember?”

Would Lord Saladin crow on the ramparts for Iron Banner festival days again? “I hope so. We are rebuilding. There’s space in the Tower for all of us.”

“Does Ikora speak of Osiris?”

“Only as a story from the past.”

Eris chuckled. “Let me tell you a secret.”

“Tell me.”

“Ikora and Osiris both think that they did the right thing by leaving one another. They may one day find that they are wrong.”

“Osiris could have helped us in the Red War.”

Eris reached forward, did not quite touch Kass’ face. “His strategy would have fallen with the others. It would not have been the Cabal who would have been lashed by that return. I see how Brother Vance wants.” Her gloved hand dropped. Kass felt the shelves press against her back. Eris still _could_ be frightening, her wrath pushed up from volcanic depths swimming with onyx shards of grief and accusation. “Why are you here?”

Kass took a deep breath. “Ikora told me you could explain what happened to my Light.” How much should she say? How much could Eris already tell? How much had this conversation already told Eris, who heard how their rhythms matched?

“Ikora was also afraid of death.”

“ _So afraid_.” Kass hadn’t expected those words to tumble out with such heat, such relief that she could gossip-care-respond to the vulnerability she had seen in her Vanguard on Io. “She learned, though. I think she learned to be bit more like you.”

“May it not plague her much.” Eris shook her head, chuckled softly. What a relief, that she could laugh! “I do not fear death. I live with it, though, a partner I cannot leave.”

Kass held out a hand as Eris had. She did not anticipate that Eris wanted to be touched, that she wanted any more than the gesture, but she also saw how Eris slackened toward her. How Warlock of her, to break her own boundaries into concentric rings of trust and carefully label them.

“Wait,” Kass said. “Ikora told me that you would be able to tell what was wrong with my Light. I resonated too closely with the Sun.”

“When you defeated Ghaul.”

“Just before, yes.”

“Such price. But you still have your Light?”

“I do, but Ikora said that it felt strange to her. When I came back to the Tower I burned with the Sun. I’m glad to have this power, this ability — but she told me to visit you, to get an outside perspective?”

“What the Light does leaves no marks before my eyes,” Eris intoned, and gestured her forward.

 _If you had thought this would do me good, Ikora, you should have said something._ Kass caught Eris under the arms and rested her head against her shoulder. She felt a light touch on her back, then the stronger, Crucible-strong embrace.

“Tell no one,” Eris muttered.

Kass blinked at sudden tears. “I would never, not about a mission to the Hidden.”

“Heh.”

“Do I need to … do something?”

“Show me the Sun.”

Burn this library, torch this woman — what a day for people telling Kass to set things on fire. She drew to arms’ length, conjured the blade of a sword between their hands. Eris’ eyes did narrow now, three shards of green like the orb she used to carry. For several heartbeats she examined the Light with senses Kass did not understand, calculations in values she had never been taught.

“The effect is temporary,” Eris said.

“How did you know?” Her hair ruffled in the heat from the flame. Eris dropped her hands, and Kass let the Solar Light dissipate into a cloud of smoke and sparks.

“When you see the Light from outside long enough, you begin to understand it differently.” Eris sounded sad for just a moment. “You have already tested your ability to control Arc, have you not? You can call it when you wish.”

“Ikora said that I would appear to be running Dawnblade from a distance. Useful for throwing people off in Crucible, I suppose, if Shaxx allows it … ”

“Ikora will tell you more. Thank you for docking my ship for me. I will research, give her what she needs. But know this for now, chosen of the Sun. It is a mark of your victory.”

Kass quieted. Her Ghost drifted, jokes and irony forgotten. She would return to the Tower, would wait for Ikora’s findings, would see her Light written out in charts and readings. She would leave Eris on the Reef, honoring her mission to follow the queen’s trail from gray space station to black rocks. Kass would live a long, long Guardian life with the strange signature of the Sun written in her mind and on her bones.

Let the Tower see that. Eris did.


End file.
